Chapter 5 - The Desperate Threat
The remaining guests in the dining room were quietly grabbing their coats, sliding past Marcus without making eye contact. The embarrassment was so thick it was suffocating. His uncles looked away in disgust; his corporate colleagues hurried out the door into the freezing wind, eager to distance themselves from a man whose career had just imploded in fifteen minutes.
Within moments, only Marcus, Patricia, my four children, and I remained in the grand foyer.
Patricia sank onto the velvet bench by the door, burying her face in her trembling hands. “Four grandchildren… four beautiful babies… and we threw them away…”
“Shut up, Mom!” Marcus snapped, losing his composure completely. He glared at me, his eyes wild with malice. “You think you’ve won, don't you? You think you can just march in here with your money and your helicopter and ruin my life?”
“You ruined your own life, Marcus,” I said calmly. “I simply delivered the mirror so you could finally see who you are.”
“I’ll sue you!” Marcus roared, taking an aggressive step toward me. “I’ll hire the best attorneys in Colorado! I’ll claim you hid my children from me! I’ll take half of Vance Tech! You got rich while using my kids, and I’m entitled to child support and joint custody!”
Before Marcus could take another step toward me, the front door swung open again.
A tall man wearing a tailored charcoal overcoat stepped into the entryway. He had sharp features, dark hair silvering at the temples, and an air of absolute authority that made Marcus’s bluster instantly look pathetic.
It was Liam Vance—my business partner, my legal counsel, and the man who had stood by my side as a true friend and father figure to my children for the last five years.
“I wouldn't recommend taking another step, Mr. Reynolds,” Liam said smoothly, closing the heavy door behind him. He removed his leather gloves with deliberate slowness. “My name is Liam Vance, senior partner at Vance & Sterling Legal. I am also Ms. Vance’s chief legal strategist.”
Marcus backed up, startled. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the man who monitors the three separate private investigators who have documented your financial activities for the last six years,” Liam replied, pulling a thick tablet from his briefcase. “Including the fact that you’ve been misrepresenting your personal assets to secure bank loans, and the recent tax evasion red flags on your offshore accounts in the Caymans.”
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Marcus went entirely white. “What?”
“If you file a single custody petition or attempt to touch one cent of Ms. Vance’s assets,” Liam continued, his tone dangerously calm, “we will release every file in our possession to the IRS and the federal prosecutors in Denver. You won't be getting joint custody, Mr. Reynolds. You’ll be getting five to seven years in federal prison.”
